


Billet-doux

by RosalindInPants



Category: The Great Library Series - Rachel Caine
Genre: Light Dom/sub, M/M, Mirror Sex, Mutual Masturbation, Purple Prose, Stripping, Teasing, magic mirror sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-11
Updated: 2019-10-11
Packaged: 2020-11-01 09:10:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20812634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RosalindInPants/pseuds/RosalindInPants
Summary: As Lord Commander of the High Garda, Santi finds it hard to get away from Alexandria. Much harder than it is for Wolfe, who has more freedom in his position as a Scholar. Fortunately, Santi's position comes with certain perks, most notably an alchemically enhanced mirror that can look through the eyes of any automaton. One located in his lover's bedroom, for instance. Such things make separation more bearable.





	Billet-doux

Santi was just settling in at his desk to review the morning's paperwork when his Codex chimed. Opening it to the page set aside for notes to and from Christopher, he grinned.

_Good morning, my beloved Niccolo. I hope this billet-doux finds you well. The mechanical sparrow upon my desk warbles euphonious aubades to me, and I find that I yearn for your affection. Would it be too much to hope that you might be available for correspondence?_

Well. Chris was certainly in a mood. Santi had to wonder just how much wine Chris had consumed the night before, and just how late he'd been up. Jess's bookshop opening parties tended toward the wilder side, after all, and being in England with the Brightwells was cause enough on its own to drink heavily. It was all too possible that Chris was still drunk.

He went to the door and opened it just enough to see that no one waited for him out in the hall. He closed the door and locked it before crossing to the tall cabinet across the small office from his desk. A tap of his gold Library band unlocked the wooden doors, and they swung open to reveal a mirror. The usual map of Alexandria reflected in it, patrolling automata marked with red dots that moved across the mirror in slow patterns. To the lower corner, a cluster of dots remained still: active automata outside Alexandria. Santi selected the one representing the little bird on Chris's desk and tapped it with his finger.

The image wavered and shifted, blurring and resolving again into the image of a bedroom, stone-walled with tall windows curtained in rich brocades. A large canopy bed dominated the room, and on that bed sat Christopher Wolfe, dressed in a rumpled black suit and Scholar's robe, his hair coming loose from the ribbon that tied it at the back of his neck. His reading glasses perched on the end of his nose, and he held his Codex in his lap, tapping his pen against the page impatiently, a frown on his face.

Santi hurried back to his desk to write, _Yes, I'm available. Have you even slept, love?_ When he looked back up at the mirror, he could see his own handwriting on the page of Chris's Codex.

Chris looked up at the bird, his mouth uncurling from its frown into a soft smile. He looked back at his Codex and wrote, _Ah, my dearest Niccolo. Would you not prefer my redamancy to my slumber? As for myself, I prefer our sempiternal romance to ephemeral dreams._

Definitely in a mood.

_I love you, too,_ he wrote back. _How was the party?_

Chris looked up at the bird and dramatically rolled his eyes. _So I am to play raconteur for your amusement? As you wish. The grand opening was, as expected, well-attended by the London elite, and young Mr. Brightwell expects his new establishment to be generously patronized henceforth. Scholar Schreiber grows more comfortable among crowds. Indeed, he has learned to dance, much to young Mr. Brightwell's delight. You will be pleased to know that although there were no fewer than six occasions that merited it, I refrained from coming to blows with the elder Mr. Brightwell. The next punch remains, as promised, yours to throw._

_If I were there, I would kiss you for that,_ Santi wrote, smiling.

Looking directly at the bird, Chris gave his lips a long, slow lick. _Niccolo, my love, were you here, I would propose that we do far more than mere osculation. _

Now this was the sort of conversation Santi had been hoping for. _Plenty we can do now,_ he wrote. _Let your hair down for me?_

Chris reached back and twirled the black ribbon that bound his hair around his finger while writing, _So we are to indulge in this chimerical fantasy of yours, my love? You would have me expose myself before this clinquant__ sparrow, and imagine that it is you I see before me? _Very, slowly, he pulled the ribbon downward over his shoulder, making Santi wish he could reach through the mirror to give it a good, hard yank and hurry things along.

The sight of Christopher's hair finally tumbling free was enough to get Santi breathing harder. Unbuttoning his trousers, he reached down to give himself a good long stroke, imagining what it would be like to get his hands in that hair. He was in the mood to pull it. To pull Chris's head back and get his mouth on that delicious neck.

_Well, my quiescent companion? Would you have me perform for your jouissance?_

Santi had to switch the hand on his cock to write. Not ideal to touch himself with the left, but impossible to write legibly with it. _Yes_.

Chris stood with Codex in hand, turning his back to the bird and looking over his shoulder, waves of loose hair framing his face. He let his Scholar's robe slide down one shoulder as he wrote. _A pity, beloved, that you cannot hear the susurrus of this silk as it falls._ He let the robe slide down to his elbow. Down to his wrist.

_I do not care what it sounds like, Christopher. I care what it looks like._

Without letting the robe slip any further down, Chris glared imperiously at the bird and wrote, _That was entirely illegible, my dear. If you wish for me to respond to your requests, you must compose them properly._

That was a lie if Santi had ever seen one. He looked back down at the page of his Codex. The writing on the page was messy, as his messages to Chris often were, but Chris had been reading such messages for over twenty years. He could damn well read this.

He could, of course, also make unreasonable demands of Santi and expect cooperation, and Santi damn well knew it. Pausing his attentions to his cock, he rewrote the message, taking care for form his letters neatly.

Chris raised an eyebrow when the words appeared on his book, but he let the robe slide from his wrist, and then down the other arm to flutter to the floor and out of sight, beneath the frame of the mirror. _Which garment shall I shed next, my beloved commander?_

Santi chuckled at that. _I'm your commander, am I? Then I command you to take that jacket off._

_Such prosaic prose_, Chris wrote, shaking his head so that Santi could almost hear his scolding voice as he read the words. _Perhaps I should not permit so pedestrian a commander to dictate my actions. Perhaps it is I who ought to command you._

The very thought made Santi's cock throb. He held his hand still on it only long enough to write, _Please, do_.

He was rewarded with the sight, if not the sound, of Christopher's laughter. _Forgotten already that you took the victory in chess prior to my departure? Tempting as it is to take advantage of your absentmindedness, I think not. You would gain entirely too much enjoyment from such an endeavor, and I far too little, prevented as I am from looking upon you. No, my sweet soldier, it is you who shall have to bear the burden of command._

While he hadn't forgotten their afternoon chess game before Chris set out for England, Santi hadn't been aware they were playing for anything more than the fun of it. He wasn't about to argue with Chris's decision to retroactively increase the stakes, though. _Well_,_ if that's settled,_ Santi wrote, _Start obeying orders._

Chris turned to face the bird, writing as he did. _I am only capable of obeying such orders as are sufficiently legible to read. These aging eyes of mine are so easily confounded by your cacography. What was it you desired that I do with this jacket, my brachylogical commander?_ With book and pen in one hand, he fingered the buttons of his jacket with the other. Through the distortion of the mirror, it was hard to see, but Santi knew that the blur of gold on each of those buttons was a Library seal. Chris continued to enjoy provoking Callum Brightwell by calling attention to his Library affiliation. The subtle pattern in the jacket's brocade was lost in the mirror image as well, but its flattering cut was all too easy to see.

Christopher looked gorgeous in that jacket. He would look even better out of it. Santi gave himself a good, hard jerk, then held his hand still on his cock while he wrote, _Take the jacket off. Now._

Leaving the Codex on the desk in front of the bird, Chris unfastened the buttons of the jacket, one at a time, and shed it with a single, smooth shrug of his shoulders. With both the jacket and the robe out of the way, Santi could see the bulge in the front of his partner's trousers. On a whim, he wrote, _Touch yourself._ If he couldn't put a hand there, he could at least see Chris do it.

To his frustration, Christopher's hands went instead to the Codex and pen. _I must confess my perplexity at such a vague order, but I shall do as you command._ Putting the pen down, he placed both hands on opposite elbows and looked at the bird with a smug grin.

Groaning, Santi took hand from cock again to write. _You damn well know what I meant. You're doing this on purpose._

_You accuse me of being pervicacious? An interesting hypothesis, though I cannot imagine how it might be proven. I await eclaircissement of your directive, my lord. _As soon as the message was written, Chris's hands went right back to his elbows.

Santi gritted his teeth and resisted the urge to throw his pen at the mirror. _Put a hand on your groin and rub yourself. Use your other hand to get that tie and vest off while you're doing it._ If that wasn't specific enough...

Apparently, it was. With a little bow, Chris moved his left hand over the bulge in his black silk trousers and rubbed slow circles while his right hand picked at the knot in his tie. The knot must have proved stubborn, because his lips pressed together in a lovely look of irritation that inspired Santi to tighten his grip on his cock. With a little more work, the knot came loose, and Chris tossed the tie at the bird before starting on the buttons of his vest, thankfully missing his target. Soon enough, the vest was off, and Chris stood at the desk still rubbing himself, looking at the bird expectantly.

Oh, how wonderful it would be to get his hands on Chris now. He would rip that shirt open, popping every button off... Well, there was an idea. _Rip your shirt open for me. Just tear it. Pop the buttons off._

Chris's eyes narrowed as he read the message, and he pushed his glasses up on his nose, giving the book a look of utmost scorn. A look Santi found entirely too arousing. _My beloved commander, I must confess that I am not entirely certain whether this is intended to be an order or an artistic rendering of the action you are currently performing on your own phallus. Nevertheless, I believe I have the perspicacity to attempt to interpret it. You wish for me to unbutton my shirt? And to turn around? As you command, my lord._

Putting the pen down, Chris undid the uppermost button on his shirt, and no more, giving Santi only the slightest glimpse of brown skin beneath the black silk before he pivoted to put his back to the bird. His arms continued to move as he undid the rest of the buttons, and when he reached the bottom, he untucked the shirt to let it flutter open. After a moment of standing there like that, he reached back for his Codex, keeping his body faced away from the bird. Tantalizing. Infuriating.

If Chris were in front of him right now, he would put him over the desk and spank him until his ass was red.

The pen trembled in Santi's hand, even when he let go of his cock entirely. He had to take several deep breaths before he was in control of himself enough to write in clear letters. _When you get home, Chris..._

He had to stop again, overcome by thoughts of the things he might do to Chris. By the time he got his breathing calmed again, new words had appeared on the page.

_Lost in thought, my love? It is most unlike you to be so ruminative in so amorous a moment. Have you any orders for me?_

_Just deciding if I'm going to let you come_, Santi wrote, making sure that the words were written neatly. _Turn around and let me see you, and take out your cock._

Santi wished he could see the look in Christopher's eyes at that threat. Chris's body gave a little jolt, as if he had gasped, and he turned in a fluid, languorous motion to face the bird again, bringing his free hand down to his belt as he did. One-handed, he worked the belt buckle and the button, and when both were unfastened, he reached in and drew out his fully erect length. Leaving it standing there in the air, he took up the pen to write. _Was that accomplished to your satisfaction, my lord, or am I to be condemned to xeronisus?_

Obedient now, was he? Slowly rubbing himself, he let Chris wait, though not nearly as long as he might have planned. Without Chris there to touch and tease, the delay only meant making his own cock feel as neglected as his lover's. _Yes. Good. Sit on the bed and start jerking. Nice and slow._

Carrying his Codex with him, Chris backed up to sit on the bed, spreading his legs wide and leaning back on one hand while his other hand wrapped around his shaft to begin a slow, rhythmic pulling.

Absolutely gorgeous.

Santi matched his partner's pace with his own hand, mirroring Chris's motions as he watched the show Chris was putting on for him. When the pressure in his groin built such that the slow pace no longer satisfied, he stopped only long enough to write another order. _Faster. Don't finish until I tell you to._

Chris must have been awaiting the message, because he looked down as soon as his Codex registered it, and he immediately hastened the pace of his hand. His head fell back and his mouth opened, his bare chest heaving as he panted with the effort of pleasuring himself.

With that vision reflected in the mirror before him, Santi pushed himself to the edge. When his climax drew painfully close, he slowed his hand, wanting to see Chris finish before he was too far gone to appreciate watching it. It would have been the perfect time for a bite, a pull on Chris's hair, something to push him right to the limit of his endurance, where Santi could send him over with a whispered order. For now, a written one would have to suffice. _Finish now._

Chris's eyes went wide, and he pumped his hand once more, twice, Santi jerking in time with him. And then he shivered, eyes closing and mouth widening, a stream of white fluid spraying onto his chest and the fine silk of his trousers. The sight of it was enough to push Santi to completion, spilling himself into his hand while he watched Chris collapse back onto the bed.

Had he been ten years younger, the sight of Chris on the bed like that might have been enough to get Santi going again. His hair wild, his clothes hanging open, pearls of semen bright on his skin, Chris looked perfectly fuckable, and Santi would have loved to yank those trousers off and thrust into him. But he supposed it was a benefit of maturity that he was able to put that thought aside for later, when he found himself at home alone without Chris. It would be a very nice fantasy to keep himself company with.

After getting himself cleaned up and tucked away, he wrote another message to Chris, who was in the process of wiping himself off with his shirt. _Going to need further testing, but I'm going to tentatively say my hypothesis is confirmed._

Rolling onto his side, Chris looked at the bird with a raised eyebrow, reaching for Codex and pen. When he got his hands on them, he responded. _I am afraid that I do not follow your line of reasoning, my beloved commander._

Santi wished Chris could see his smile. It was always fun to turn Chris's superior grins back on him. _I proposed that you could read and understand my orders despite your claims to the contrary. Now, look at that last message I sent you, and tell me it was legible._ Looking down at the page, Santi could hardly read it himself.

Chris was caught, and he knew it, giving the bird an indignant look that Santi savored. _You assume that I was able to decipher that pathetic attempt at handwriting. I may merely have predicted your orders and acted accordingly. I may, for all you know, have been disobedient and acted in accordance with my own desires._

_Are you sure you want to admit to disobedience? That means I get to punish you when you get home._

Eyes fixed on the bird, Chris licked his lips. _What a fascinating proposition. Might I propose that we conduct further study on this matter?_ Stretching, he gave an exaggerated yawn. _Tomorrow. Tonight. At some future time that is not the present, as I find that I am in immediate need of slumber._

_You're going to forgo our sempiternal redamancy in favor of ephemeral dreams? You break my heart, Christopher._

Chris answered with an unmistakable gesture.

**Author's Note:**

> Definitions of some of the more unusual words Wolfe used:  
Quiescent - a quiet, soft-spoken soul.  
Chimerical - merely imaginary; fanciful.  
Susurrus - a whispering or rustling sound.  
Raconteur - one who excels in story-telling.  
Clinquant - glittering; tinsel-like.  
Aubade - a song greeting the dawn.  
Ephemeral - lasting a very short time.  
Sempiternal - everlasting; eternal.  
Euphonious - pleasing; sweet in sound.  
Billet-doux - a love letter.  
Redamancy - act of loving in return.  
Osculation - kissing.  
Jouissance - Enjoyment, delight, pleasure.  
Cacography - Bad handwriting.  
Brachylogical - Succinct, terse, straight-to-the-point.  
Pervicacious - Very obstinate; stubborn; wilfully contrary or refractory; wilful.  
Eclaircissement - Explanation; the clearing up of something not before understood.  
Perspicacity - Having or showing penetrating mental discernment; clear-sighted.  
Xeronisus - Inability to reach orgasm.


End file.
